Tuesday, 13 October, 2009

I want...


.........I want us to perfectly fit together, like apples and cinnamon


...................<........................................................(whoever you'll be..)

I've never seen such perfect beauty better portrayed.
It's like their tastes have melted into each other forever..
Open yourself to me (just like apples and cinnamon)

nuit d'automne

…And I honestly believe in happiness

J’ai l’impression de toujours dire les mêmes mots, ayant toujours le même sens, toujours sur le même ton..
J’ai l’impression que chaque fois que ma vie avance vers quelque chose de nouveau, je regarde en arrière er j’arrête de marcher..
J’ai l’impression d’avoir perdu tout ce qui était bon en moi et d’avoir gardé tout ce que j’aurais voulu changer..

Mais j’y crois encore, je le sens, je sais que le jour où je prendrai une décision, ce sera la bonne. C’est la frustration de n’avoir aucun contrôle sur ma vie, de ne pas savoir quoi faire, quoi choisir, quoi sacrifier qui m’empêche de dormir. Si seulement c’était aussi simple de prendre une partie de mon cœur et de le briser en petites miettes, si c’était si facile de renoncer au passé, à mes rêves, à l’orgueil de n’avoir jamais penché la tête et m’avouer vaincue… je croirais au bonheur. Mais j’y crois quand même, je sais qu’il est là, je sais qu’un jour je pourrai dire que nous deux, c’est pour la vie, qui que tu sois…mais j’espère secrètement que c’est toi.

Je n’ai jamais été aussi confuse de toute ma vie, cependant c’est la première fois que je vois le monde avec les yeux grand ouverts, que je l’aime, que je trouve que le ciel est joli, que les feuilles ont des belles couleurs, que l’automne est doux et paisible…

Je sais ce que je ressens et c’est assez pour l’instant. J’ai besoin de plus d’espace, de plus de blanc.



‘I know, the past will catch you up as you run faster
I know, the last in line is always called a bastard’

Saturday, 10 October, 2009

4 minutes

Well, it’s been a while now and things have changed, I have changed; summer’s gone, the sky turns gray more often, college sucks just as bad as last year. We had 23 days of rain in July, I can’t stand hockey, I don’t get Physics. It’s 5:12 a.m.
So what after the shitty talk? I hate introductions…
I should talk about the song. The one that’s playing quietly in my headphones, the one I keep on listening over and over. Quiet? Not at all
Music could make everyone pretty. Art could make everyone pretty. Through my art, I can finally be daddy’s little girl. He’d stay on that black sofa, after a 2000 km ride, watching me draw twisted lines and shapes with my Indian ink bottles, telling me they’re pretty. Pretty
The song starts off with violent riffs and violent screams, but I can’t find any kind of revolt in my once incensed and outraged soul. I’d just spend days, months, centuries listening to every single note while drawing with my awkward quill pen. I’d wash my insecurities away. I wouldn’t mind forgetting those things I want to remember forever. I wouldn’t mind losing control, because the tornado I’d create would be just a bunch of ink splatters on a blank paper. But it’s 5:16 a.m. now and I only have myself and my music.
And I wish it wasn’t just us.

Hey, do you remember..?

Friday, 3 July, 2009

Happy birthday!


This is for a special friend..
And not only because it's his birthday, because he has just turned 19 and because I know the most beautiful years of his life are yet to come, but I wanted to wish him that kind of happiness that blows you away and makes you reach heaven, that kind of amazing joy you feel only when your biggest dreams come true, that kind of beauty you can see only in your lover’s smile..

You know I suck at choosing my words and expressing feelings, but when we met, at the very end of last year’s winter, I couldn’t have imagined the way you’d change lives all around you, the way you’d make people feel, the way you’d stand for your friends, the way you’d show them they’re special. We've been through so much since that early morning, that I feel like i've known you forever. This is more than a thank you word, it’s a promise. A promise I’ll be here for you, forever and always, while we grow up and get old.

Happy birthday!
And a really, amazingly happy year <3

Wednesday, 1 July, 2009

4 ani <3


4 ani...
Am scris despre ea. Sunt 4 ani din seara in care am cunoscut-o. 4 ani din momentul acela despre care nu stiam ca avea sa-mi schimbe viata. Au trecut 4 ani, ani in care te-ai schimbat atat de mult, dar pentru mine ai ramas la fel. Aceeasi Gab. As vrea sa pot scrie despre noi, dar tu stii ce vreau sa iti spun si imi e de ajuns. Si te iubesc. As vrea sa am cuvinte, metafore, sa iti mai pot trimite versuri, dar au trecut 4 ani si ma cunosti prea bine. Fara a spune nimic, tu stii totul despre mine.
La multi ani noua! >:D<
We truly are gettin' older xD
together.

Thursday, 25 June, 2009

Writer's block. If only I had been a writer...


Nu mai pot scrie.

Nimic.
Randuri albe.
Luni intregi.
Mai bine de un an.

Martie 2008. Poate ca atunci am scris cu adevarat pentru ultima oara. Noapte tarzie, fara sunete, fara vise. Parfum excesiv de tigara, nori de fum pustii si solitari. Cafeaua mea, propria ei mireasma obosita de vanilie. Lupte interioare, ambivalenta, nehotarare, nimicuri. De ce am scris?
In noaptea aceea, s-a terminat.
S-a terminat si ultima tigara. Kent 8, Dunhill Black, alte nimicuri. Imaginea lor mi-e mult prea clara in minte. Si parfumul...da, parfumul impregnat in haine, in birou si in noptiera, in cartile vechi care ar fi putut avea acea aroma placuta, usor dulceaga…
In noaptea aceea, s-a terminat.
S-a terminat absenta sentimentelor si am inceput eu. Incapabila sa scriu. Simtind, in sfarsit! Nefumatoare. Complet neinteresanta. Eu.
A trecut mai bine de un an si nu mai pot scrie. Nu in acelasi fel. Un an si mi-a fost dor de ele. Cafeaua e inca acolo, gustul insa s-a schimbat. Prea mult zahar?! In locul scrierilor anoste,vorbesc despre vise. Dar eu ce visez? Imaginile ma fac sa tresar, as vrea sa le uit, as vrea ca noptile sa nu mi se graveze in memorie, as vrea sa-mi pot manui cosmarurile asemenea unui mic teatru de papusi. Dar nu pot, asa ca as vrea doar sa scriu. Frazele sunt sacadate, adesea imbecile; imi lipsesc metaforele, gandurile si ideile, imi lipseste vointa de a spune ce simt; mi-e teama de sertarele profunde ale mintii mele…
Si visele? Si tot ce nu v-am spus? Si cosmarurile lipsite de sens, ilustrate sub forma de masacre, panica, intrebarile? Mi-ar fi teama sa fiu ascultata cu adevarat. Nu trebuie sa scriu.

Nu mai pot scrie. Dar poate pot spera, pot iubi, pot fi tot ceea ce nu am putut fi printre atatea randuri vechi.

Sunday, 21 June, 2009

About her

I should have written about her a long time ago.
I met her in a late summer night, at the beginning of July. Back then, I was 14 and I was craving for my lost paradise. Living in a place I didn’t know, abandoned by the world – or so it seemed, she became my salvation, the shoulder I would have wanted to cry on. She was smart, tough and talented; she was special in every single way. She still is. Wishing with all her heart to escape from the place where I wanted to return to, her eyes were wide open; mine were closed to everything. Both of us had lived similar nightmares, we both wanted to change the world, to make our dreams come true, to fall in the deepest love, to be happy in our own way. On many levels, she was just like my reflection in the mirror, but so much better. She was there when my world crushed down. She was there for me when my days were dark and grey. She still is. We’re grownups now and some of our dreams came true; we have love and a sort of happiness we used to crave for. Maybe we won’t change the world, but we’ve changed each other. I know she changed me. I had to write a few lines about her, because she’s been here all this time; she’s been close to my heart. And because after a year of silence, she’s still there for me, she’s still one of my closest friends and I love her just as much as before and even more. Thanks for everything, sis’!